When I'm Sad

This is not exactly poetry, but it's close to it. I would consider this piece to be prose. I wrote it when it was raining.

I like to drive out, far away from homes and motels and restaurants, far away from anywhere that contains and entertains people, and I like to drive until my woozy saddened mind won’t let my foot press the pedal anymore. Then I stop. I almost always find myself at a beach, sometimes the east coast, sometimes the west coast, it all depends on what I want to see. Then I stop again. I am heart-wrenchingly sad but unmoving in my shell, then I witness the sun set or the sun rise, it all depends on what I want to see. This movement of the sun, the caramel liquor that it spills across the canvas of the heavens, reminds me that I am but one small girl hopelessly addicted to something much larger than myself and with this realization comes either further longing or an inner peace, it all depends on what I want to feel.

I can honestly say that I am almost always comforted by the waves and their rhythm. It reminds me of you sometimes, how a single wave falls back and is lost into the rest of the sea water, but at some point I know, that the same wave will return to brush lips with the shore once again, maybe carrying new things within the curl of its rugged shape but it is still the same nevertheless. This is why when I’m sad I drive and drive and let myself be driven to the ocean much like you drove me to madness and stormy weather and still, like a magic dream, upon the arrival of really knowing you, you drove me to peace and reflection and breathless dimensions in worlds we formed and placed into photo books with our writings.

When I’m sad, I let the ocean speak my mind. I let the wind caress and tangle my hair like your fingers used to; I let the sand cling to my skin like your scent, and I let the gulls cry louder than I will ever allow myself.

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